


Coop

by Cre8tivesoul



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Language, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cre8tivesoul/pseuds/Cre8tivesoul
Summary: Following the events of 2x22, "Never Out of the Fight", Bravo 4 heads west to meet up with an old friend.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Coop

Zoe Cooper let out a shaky breath as she turned the key in the ignition and her Jeep engine quieted in the dark outside her bungalow. Letting her head thump back against the leather headrest, yet another tear rolled down her cheek. After all these years, she thought that this - saying goodbye - would get easier. But it didn’t. How could it? These were kids she was losing. No matter how hard she tried, how hard her team fought, it was just never enough for so many of these kids they were trying to help, to save. The drugs and the violence - they were losing more than they were saving most days.

She knew she was winding down. After all these years working with so many troubled kids, each loss weighed heavier and heavier on Zoe’s heart. Losing Miguel tonight...she shook her head, trying to erase the image of the 15 year old as the light went out of his eyes. 

Zoe took a deep breath and got out of the Jeep, grabbing her bag from the back seat. She was halfway up the walkway when she looked up and saw soft light streaming out her living room window. She didn’t recall leaving a light on when she left at first light. She had wanted to get some painting done at the studio before she headed to the outreach center for what she thought was a short afternoon but turned into a ten hour long nightmare. 

Looking back out to the street, Zoe didn’t see anything much out of the ordinary except for a blue sedan parked across the street. Turning back to the front door, she uncapped the mace on her key ring but changed her mind. Instead, she reached into her bag to put her hands on her Smith & Wesson. Only two scenarios came to mind - either her ex had shown up for a booty call (fat chance) or someone had neatly broken in and announced themselves by leaving the lights on while they tossed the joint. Whichever one, she was ready for either.

Quietly sliding the key into the lock, she found it already undone. Strangely, as she cracked the door open, she smelled something delicious coming out of the kitchen.

Definitely not her ex.

He could burn water.

So, burglar who cooks dinner as a way of saying sorry? 

“You can put that away,” the voice said.

That voice.

No, it couldn’t be, Zoe thought. Could it?

Taking another step into her living room, Zoe froze in place as the body that the voice belonged to stepped around the corner. 

“Hey Coop,” he said softly.

Zoe took one look at the clean shaven face and short hair…

And busted out laughing.

Looking nearly the same as he looked when they first met all those years ago, when he was starting BUD/S and she was tending bar in that dive just off base, stood Trent Sawyer.

Rolling his eyes at her, Trent shook his head, spread his arms out and turned in a circle in the dining room archway. “Go ahead, yuk it up. But this is actually what I’m supposed to look like. Not the long haired hippie freak look you love so much,” he joked with her, a small smile on his face. Man, he had missed her laugh.

But then the laugh began to fade out and the look on her face - one of surprise and joy at his arrival twisted into one of pain and misery as her laughs turned into sobs. In three strides, Trent was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she collapsed against his chest. Not completely sure what was going on, he just held her tightly until she was ready to tell him what was going on.

After several minutes, and no signs of being cried out, Trent bent down and picked Zoe up, bridal style and sat down on the couch in front of the large picture window that dominated the front of the house. Now set in his lap, Zoe curled in even further into Trent’s chest. He slowly ran his hand up and down her spine, hoping to soothe her a bit, calm her down. He rested his cheek atop her head and whispered affirmations, letting her know he was there, she was safe and that he had her. 

Always.

He cupped the back of her head with his right hand, kissing her forehead as another wave of emotion hit her. He ran his left hand lightly up and down her right arm, noticing a few new pieces of art that hadn’t been there the last time they saw each other. It had been nearly two years after all. He had been spun up to Liberia, Estonia, South Sudan, the Triple Frontier, deployed to Afghanistan - again. If he was honest, he probably could’ve come to visit after the helo crash but he had felt compelled to stay close to home while the team recovered. He and Coop had talked and she understood his need to stay close. Then Alanna died, they lost Adam in Mumbai, deployed to Mexico, almost lost Sonny, Clay, Ray. Now Swannie. It had gotten to be too much and he needed time. 

So after visiting his mother, he got on a plane and landed in San Diego seven hours later, rented a car and was digging up the rock in the Coop’s backyard with the spare key in it without really thinking about it. It had always been like that between them. Just show up. No questions asked.  
After another few minutes lost in thought, Trent noticed that Zoe’s breathing started to even out. While there were still a few hitches in her breath here and there, she seemed calmer and Trent started to wonder if she had fallen asleep in his arms. It wouldn’t be the first time. But after another minute, Zoe lifted her head. “Hi,” she smiled sadly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Looking into her bright blue eyes, Trent pushed a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “Hi. Surprise,” he chuckled.

Zoe smiled a little brighter in response to the levity.

“Definitely. And one I needed tonight,” she replied, as she tucked her head back against his chest.

“You hungry?” Trent inquired. “I managed to scrounge together the ingredients for some spaghetti.”

Zoe smiled into his chest and hugged him a little tighter. “Do you mind if we just sit like this for a little longer?”

“Bad day?”

Tears threatened again as she nodded. Curling further into Trent’s chest, Zoe took a deep breath and said, “Can’t talk about it yet.”

Pressing his lips against her forehead, Trent simply nodded, learning long ago that Zoe wouldn’t talk until she was ready to. Her stomach, however, had other ideas, growling loudly. Trent chuckled. “When was the last time you ate?” he queried. Zoe shrugged her shoulders. She honestly couldn’t remember. A scone with her coffee at the studio? Some chips or a bite of a sandwich at lunch?

Zoe lifted her head to once again look into Trent’s eyes. She lifted her right hand, lightly running her finger tips along his jawline. She smiled softly, remembering the clean shaven young sailor who walked into the bar she was tending in Coronado all those years ago. They had clicked immediately. She had been dating...Matt? Steven? Bodhi? Hell, she couldn’t remember after all these years. Didn’t matter. She had been involved with someone, Trent had had a girl “back home” but they still clicked and started a friendship that had outlasted every other relationship both of them had had. He was her rock, and she believed she was his, though he’d never said it out loud. Hell he was here, wasn’t it. 

Wait, she thought. Why was he here?

“What’s with the babyface?” she questioned.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Trent dropped his eyes. “Funeral,” he answered.

Before he even knew what was happening, Zoe flipped up and straddled Trent’s lap, wrapping her tattooed arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as she dared. “I am so sorry,” she cried. “God, I suck. Here I am, freaking bawling and mopey and you spent all day on a plane to get here to get away from all that and I just...just, ugh, I’m sorry!”

Trent chuckled at her. His Zoe. Just like that, she could flip that switch and all of a sudden, BAM! All that focus was on someone else now, her own pain and heartache forgotten. His arms snaked around her waist and held her just as tight as she held him. It always amazed him how they were the only ones who could do this for the other - hold each other tight enough to glue all the broken pieces back together.

They sat like that for another few moments until Zoe’s stomach once again made it’s displeasure at being empty known. Both chuckling, they pulled away from each other after a brief forehead bump and got up off the couch.

For the next hour, the two old friends sat at Zoe’s dining room table, eating spaghetti and a small Caesar salad Trent had thrown together with what was left in Zoe’s fridge. As they were loading the dishwasher, she turned to Trent and asked the question she always hated asking when he came to visit. “So,” she began. “How long do I have you for?”

Turning back to her from the stove, Trent smiled at her. “Return flight is on Monday at 1:20 pm.”

Zoe’s head snapped up so fast, Trent thought she would give herself whiplash. “I have you all weekend?” she asked incredulously. Rarely did his schedule allow him the opportunity to spend more than 24 hours with her. Now she had him for 3 and a half days. She jumped up in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist like a koala bear. It was his favorite thing in the world when she did that.

“Yep, all weekend,” he managed to get out, given the squeeze around his neck.

Zoe felt lighter, just a bit. While she was pretty sure there was going to be a funeral that weekend, at least he would be with her. She always felt like she could get through anything as long as she had her best friend by her side.

“Coop…” Trent whispered. “Can’t...breathe!”

Rolling her eyes, Zoe pulled back, releasing some of the tightness in her hold on him. She was, foolishly, she knew, scared that if she totally let go, he would disappear and that was not something she could handle right now. He was there and she was going to take full advantage of having him by her side the next few days.

Knocking her forehead against his, she let out a sigh that turned into a full blown yawn. Trent chuckled at her. “Am I boring you already? I can always get on the next flight back to Virginia Beach,” he kidded with her, even as he pulled her even more snugly against his body, hoping she understood he was just messing with her.

As he suspected, she again adjusted her grip around his neck in protest. “Not happening, big guy. You’re mine until 1:20pm Monday afternoon. And not one second sooner,” she protested. Unfortunately the force of said protest was nearly drowned out by another yawn.. Trent looked over at the clock hanging on the dining room wall and saw that it was after midnight now. No wonder she’s exhausted, he thought. With whatever it was that happened today, combined with the time, he knew he needed to get her to bed.

“Come on, Coop, time for some sleep,” Trent informed her.

Not even bothering to set her feet on the floor, Trent flipped the switch on the wall and walked back into the living room, flipping the wall switch in there as well. He carried Zoe down the hallway to the bedroom and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. Zoe answered with a small howl of complaint. “Rude,” she snapped at him, as he chuckled at her.

“Go get changed,” he ordered. Sticking her tongue out at him, Zoe started walking towards the en suite when she stopped in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Zoe turned back to Trent with the same sad look that had haunted her face earlier. Tears threatening to spill again, Trent walked around the foot of the bed and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. Letting out a shaky breath, Zoe quietly began to speak.

“His name was Miguel. He was coming to the center this afternoon to help tutor some of the younger kids,” she said with a small sob. “He was so good with them. He made doing homework fun for them. He would do these little puppet shows or come up with silly songs to sing to them to help them memorize how to do a math equation. Sometimes, I would stay late and paint at the center and he would hang out and ask me all kinds of questions about art and painting and history. He was such a good kid” Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks again. “It was a fucking drive-by. He didn’t deserve...in the middle of the street for Crissakes…surrounded by strangers,” she choked out. “Trent, he died in my arms.” Now fully sobbing, Zoe sank to the floor, in the doorway of her bathroom, repeating one word.

Why...

Once again, Trent felt more than a little helpless. All he could do was hold her, and hope that the newly broken pieces could somehow fit back together, but he knew that wasn’t how it worked. All he could do was sit on the floor with her, stroke her hair and hold her tight until she was able to cry it all out.

Slowly, Zoe’s uncontrolled sobbing started to slow. Her breath continued to hitch every so often. Trent had to admit, this was not the most comfortable position but he refused to move until Zoe did. He was a SEAL after all. He had been in much, much worse conditions. At least here, there was air conditioning. The hardwood floors sucked though.

Trent felt Zoe going limp in his arms, so he looked down to see that she had, indeed, cried herself to sleep. Not wanting to spend the night on the floor if he didn’t have to, Trent began to stand up and move Zoe to her bed. She flinched and grabbed the front of his shirt tighter. “It’s ok, hon. I’m still here,” Trent said. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Better not,” Zoe sleepily mumbled.

Smirking, Trent started to pull the covers down the bed, laying Zoe down on the cool sheets. “Sweetie, let’s at least get these jeans off of you, ok?”

Zoe just grunted at Trent. Shaking his head in amusement, Trent gently stripped her out of her jeans. He left everything else as his because, frankly, he valued his life. The one time he thought he was being helpful by taking her bra off when she had passed out after a long night of tequila, her foot connected with his junk and he swore he didn’t sit right for a week. So, friendship ended at taking her jeans off.

Zoe was still whimpering in her sleep, so Trent decided to just kick off his shoes, take off his own jeans, and crawl in next to her. As he was getting ready to turn the light off and climb into bed, something caught his eye. Zoe’s tank top had ridden up just a little, just enough for Trent to see a tattoo he never remembered seeing. 

It was his insignia. Well, the Bravo insignia. 

And it was right on her ribcage.

As he got closer, Trent saw that underneath the small insignia it said “TSB4”. 

Trent Sawyer. Bravo 4. His initials and his call sign.

“Hey,” Zoe sleepily called out.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Trent replied as he turned off the light on the bedside table. In the dark, Trent got settled in bed and pulled Zoe’s back to his front, winding his right arm around her waist. Zoe ran her hand down his arm, over the scars no one else ever wanted to look at or acknowledge, let alone touch. But Zoe? She never shied away from touching him there. She always said it meant he lived. She touched it because she could, because he was still here. 

Trent lightly kissed the back of her head as Zoe linked her fingers with his. “Love you,” she said sleepily.

“Love you, too,” Trent answered, as he squeezed her just a little bit tighter into him, drifting off to sleep with Zoe in his arms was always the best night's sleep he had.

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried writing this with several different beginnings and story lines over the last couple of weeks, since posting my Blackburn one-shot. Tonight, I just started typing and I just hope I at least spelled everything right. These may become full series, or a bunch of one shots, but I want to give Eric, Trent & Brock some attention, too. Hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
